O Comics! My Comics!

Art: Steve Ditko from the story Deep Ruby,
appearing in Eerie #6

Why do we do it? What makes comics so important to us? What makes us stand tall in the face of mockery from obnoxious, ignorant, outsiders? What makes us suffer the sometimes rude, elitist, and cruel words that fellow fans will spew from behind the anonymity of the internet? Why do comics affect us on a deep, emotional level that few other mediums ever have or could? Why would I spend the time writing this column that is coming dangerously close to being a cry for personal validation?

The answer to all of those questions is a simple one: comics are an end in themselves. Neither comics, nor I, need any additional validation. Their very existence proves their worthiness and that they are a worthwhile pursuit.

Comics are the medium that allowed Steve Ditko to create insane, engrossing, and bizarre new dimensions that rivaled any surrealist painting. Comics allowed Jack Kirby to invent incredible machines and gods that were truly worthy of fear and worship. Because of Comics Harvey Pekar forced us consider the joys, sadness, and subtle complexity of ordinary life in a new way. Comics allowed Harvey Kurtzman to tell captivating war stories and simultaneously create one of the greatest humor publications of all-time. Comics allowed Will Eisner to tell genuinely heart wrenching and heart warming stories about life as a cartoonist and as a New Yorker. Comics allowed Alan Moore to expand our minds with psychedelic horror tales in Louisiana swamps. Comics are the medium that allowed Johnny Ryan to redefine the crass humor and dick-jokes. Comics allowed Bill Gaines and Jim Warren to give us shocking tales of horror, suspense, and war in brave, new, thought provoking ways. Comics are the medium allowed Eastman and Laird to create a team of heroes that would forever impact and change an entire generation of people. Comics breathed new life into literary and pulp characters that could have otherwise ended up as footnotes. Comics are the medium that allowed Art Spiegelman to force us to reexamine our relationships and our past. Comics require no permissions. Comics require no validation. Comics are limited only by the imagination of the individuals creating them. Comics demand only your eyes and your mind, but they will feed your heart, your soul, and will alter they way you experience the world, its art and its literature.

Comics do not create or cultivate the negativity that we often experience as fans, enthusiasts, and historians. People do. The value of Comics offset any other negativity that can, and occasionally does, surround them. Oftentimes, we don’t even recognize that offset. We take it for granted, but it’s there.

Comics are the alpha and the omega. There is no greater medium to have ever existed. We deal with the aggravation and annoyances because, somewhere, we recognize that on one level or another.

Comics have given us all something, whether it was an escape, a sense of self-worth, an intellectual pursuit, or something even greater or much smaller. Comics gave us those things, not because of some altruistic goal of their creators or publishers. Comics gave us those things because they are inherent within the medium itself. Comics demand that we recognize their greatness, and we do it with every purchase, every convention visit, every fond memory, and every enthusiastic conversation. And because we recognized their greatness, we have been rewarded with all of those feelings. We made Comics and Comics made us.

Long live Comics!